The Reznoten Chronicles: Reign of the Black Raven
by TheDisturbedGuy
Summary: In the middle ages, an evil wizard has arisen. The world of wizardry is thrown into chaos and destruction, all because of one man. Read about the journey through the years of Hogwarts with Brandon McKnight. Read about the world of dark wizardry with an unexpected villain. Read about the reign of the black raven. I do not own the HP world, just the characters.
1. At Raven's Crossing

**Okay, here is the prologue to my story. I hope you like it as I put a lot of time and effort into planning this series out. So please leave a review, and if you like it, please follow it. Now, ON WITH THE STORY!:**

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In a small keep, known as Raven's Crossing, a knight sat on a throne. His sword was across resting atop his thighs, its flat, hammered edges gleaming in the light of the spiraling flames. He was the lord of the castle and surrounding lands, with a population of 900 people under his control and protection. His keep had two towers attached to the east and west sides of the main building, and a hallway that connected the third tower. It was the crossroads in which many people used, and paid considerably for continued protection from bandits.

The knight had black, shoulder blade length, straight hair. His deep blue eyes were calculating, always watching for a sign of weakness in his holdings, or his sworn swords. He stood at a good six feet and six inches, towering for his family. His long, glossy beard flowed to his Adam's apple. He was wearing a black doublet, with a blue-and-black striped jerkin over it. His legs were covered by a pair of blue breeches, and his feet covered by black leather riding boots. His hands were garbed with black leather gauntlets, with deep-blue vambraces on his arms. His black-and-blue striped short cape fell to his sides.

The throne the knight was sitting on was white oak, with silver embroidery decorating the surface, and a pair of ravens adorned the top, with sapphires for eyes. The banners that billowed behind were deep blue, with a black raven that had a sword in one talon, and a flail in the other.

This knight was Sir Gregoir McKnight. His keep was in Southern Scotland, and he was knighted for his service to the crown. He had twenty-two sworn swords, and a garrison of three-hundred men-at-arms.

Now, Gregoir was sitting on his throne, listening to pleas from the people of his lands, asking him to do something about Horace the Terrible. He listened to their vivid descriptions of what Horace did to their young: raping their women, some of the girl children, putting babes' heads on spikes, and putting men on crosses. These were horrible; however, these weren't really the matters on his mind.

News of an entirely different matter was on his mind. See, he was actually something very strange, and this news involved his kind. Gregoir McKnight wasn't exactly the same as his subjects, he was something else entirely. Gregoir had extreme power at his fingertips. The news he was talking about was different from what others were used to.

Rumors had spread: Lord Odinnir had been broken. The news struck Gregoir more than others because of one thing: His brother, Kenneth McKnight, had died. And to add to it, Kenneth's wife, Jeyne, had died of grief. This wasn't too horrible for him; it was the last part that terrified him. See, his brother had a son, whom was only six month's old.

As Kenneth had died, all his land's, including the island of Arran, was now his. With these lands, came the problem. Gregoir was now his nephew, Brandon or something's, guardian. It was difficult with just one ward, Alyssra Sinclair, daughter of an old usurping family, who was nearing five years of age. But, now he was able to move to his home city of Kilmarnock, which is on the island of Arran mind you.

Oh, you may be wondering, was Gregoir saddened by the untimely passing of his brother? Not really actually. In his mind, sure, it had been very unfortunate, but that didn't mean there weren't good things that came from it. Gregoir was about twenty-three years old, and Kenneth had been twenty-eight.

You may also be wondering why Gregoir doesn't have a wife and children. Well, it was for the reason he got knighted. He was sent to take out a false king, more of a bandit-king, it didn't end well… Gregoir had been captured, and tortured extensively. One such torture, removed his manhood… Since he couldn't reproduce, and decided to not get married.

With all those details over, Gregoir's attention was drawn to the opening doors. A knight with the sigil of Edinburgh was walking in, soaked from all the heavy rain. The knight was holding something wrapped tightly in furs and blankets. So, now Gregoir could see his nephew for the first time.

The knight approached, his boots clacking all the way. He bowed onto one knee, holding the babe out to him. "M'lord," the knight spoke, "This is the only heir of the McKnight family, Brandon Edrew McKnight."

Gregoir sat there for a moment, waving away the peasants whom were still clamoring. The peasants protested until his sworn swords drew their blades and ushered them out. A few minutes passed, and the Gregoir stood up. He walked over to the knight silently, and then spoke. "So, whom do I have to thank for the newest burden?"

The knight opened his mouth several times, as if clearly appalled, and then spoke, "M'lord, this is the only heir of the McKnight's, as even you do not have any children."

"Heir he may be, but he is still an extra mouth to feed." Gregoir pointed out.

"I know, but he must be raised by a family member." The knight retorted.

"And I never said no, I only stated a fact." Gregoir replied coolly. The knight seemed hesitant now, as if he didn't want to hand the babe over. The knight drew a deep breath, and stood up. He walked over to Gregor, and handed him the tiny baby boy within the furs.

Gregoir opened up the furs and saw his nephew. At six months old, the babe was quite small. He had a small patch of the signature black hair of the McKnight's, and even with the child sleeping, Gregoir knew he would ave blue eyes. He cradled the babe in his arms, looking at his brother's son. It was quite a unique feeling, holding the only living heir of an old noble family.

Gregoir looked back at the knight, who was wringing his hands nervously, "You may return to Kilmarnock," he ordered, and as the knight turned to leave, he added, "and tell them to prepare for my return!" The knight turned, and looked shocked, but he quickly regained his composure.

"As you say my lord." The knight said coolly, and he half stomped, half walked out of the room. Gregoir could hear the large front doors close, signaling the knights exit. One of Gregoir's sworn swords approached him to take the babe.

Gregoir shook his head, and the sworn sword halted immediately, "M'lord?"

"Have the physician find a room for my nephew..." Gregoir began to order, "Wait! Have the physician move him into Alyssra's room! Alyssra will be pleased to have a new friend." The sworn sword, Edward Balschek of Perth, bowed and went to find the court physician. Gregoir sat back onto his throne, still holding the babe. Suddenly, a light filled his vision. He now found himself standing on an open field, broken standards and dead corpses surrounded him. In the middle of all this, he saw a man.

The man was fairly tall, about an inch or two taller than him. He was wearing a black cape, with a black hood covering his head. The man's face wasn't visible, as a black bellows helmet mask was covering his face. He wore a black leather gorget, black leather abdomen belt, and a black leather battle skirt. The man also wore a solitary black leather steel on his right shoulder. The man wore high black boots, and black steel sabatons covered the feet.

The man turned and faced him, and that was when Gregoir saw something familiar. Blue Eyes. The man felt familiar, and the blue eyes were also familiar. The man raised his wand, which was intricately designed with raven feather designs, and spoke something strange, a queer language. Gregoir knew instantly that the man had spoken a stream of spells, and felt the impact immediately.

Gregoir opened his eyes and looked around hesitantly. He was still in the throne room, and he was sitting on his throne. The reason Gregoir had this... _vision_, was because, he was a seer. Every generation of McKnight's had at least one seer, and Gregoir was one of them. Now though, he had to wonder, what did the babe in his arms have to do with the vision.

Realization struck him, and he realized there would be a lot of work that had to be done. Edward returned with the physician. Gregoir told the physician what to do, and the physician went off. For the time being, Brandon was going t be sharing a room with Alyssra, until they left for Kilmarnock. As Gregoir set the babe down in his cradle, ideas of the future filled his mind, and little did he know, that the future would be far more exciting than expected.

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**Okay, so that was the prologue of the story. Please tell me what you think, was it good? Or was it bad? I would REALLY like to know what you guys think of it! If you liked it, then please leave a review and follow! Also, question of the chapter!**

**Question: What are the common traits of a McKnight?**


	2. The Rite-of-Passage

**Okay, so here is the first official chapter for the story! Thank you for being patient, I just really want to take my time with this story! Also, some of you say I shouldn't be writing rated M fics if I'm only 16, well, guess what? I'm probably the most mature 16 year old alive, as my life has been nothing but hell, so I had to grow up early! So don't judge! Now, with that bit of unpleasantness out of the way, here is the next chapter! ON WITH THE STORY!:**

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_10 years later…_

The young boy woke up with sweat glistening on his skin; he'd been forced awake from the same nightmare. The boy seemed to be cursed with the same horrific dream every night, always filled with death, blood, and lights. He took a deep breath, and pushed himself off his straw mattress. The young boy went over to his bowl of water, putting his hands along the edges.

He looked at his reflection; the boy was turning eleven in about two months, and he was average height for his age. His deep blue eyes were like every other McKnight in history: cold, calculating, and full of untold wisdom. And, like every other McKnight, he had the signature raven black hair. The boy was scrawny, which he was told by his uncle, was another signature McKnight trait.

The boy's uncle was Lord Gregoir Argus McKnight, he was previously known as Sir Gregoir, but he was promoted to "Lord" after his elder brother had died. That would make this boy, Brandon Edrew McKnight. Brandon has been raised all his life by his uncle, and has no memories of his father or mother.

Brandon dipped his hands into the water, and splashed his face repeatedly. When he was finished, he grabbed the nearby towel and began drying his face off. About this time, the servant came in, ready to braid the boy's hair. Brandon too had shoulder blade length hair, which he had gathered into a ponytail.

After the servant was done, Brandon walked over to the window and looked out. The high walls of the castle loomed over his window. Just over the peak of the walls, he could see the clear blue sky, with the golden sun just above it. The air felt crisp, nice, and cool all at the same time.

The door opened again, and as Brandon turned, he could already tell who it was. The man was far over six feet, and he had a threatening aura around him. The man's once raven black hair was turning into the color of charcoal. He was still imposing, even at the age of thirty-three, he was still a person of great stature. It was his uncle, Lord Gregoir.

"So, I see that you have just awoken." His awoken said, his tone in it's usually low, gravelly pitch, "you need to be dressed and prepared in six minutes sharp." Brandon nodded, there was no arguing. "Also, I am taking you on a... special trip." Brandon knew instantly that this 'trip' wouldn't be too much fun. His uncle NEVER did anything happy, kind, or just for the hell of it. There was ALWAYS something in it for him, or he was required to do it as the Lord of the Raven Islands.

"What kind of 'trip'," he made air quotations around 'trip', "is it?" His uncle did his thin lip grin, which normally looks disturbing. A gleam entered his uncle's eye, a gleam he only has when death is involved.

"I am taking you to see something that all McKnight boys see, it's sort of a right-of-passage." His uncle said, the little grin still on his face, "Now hurry up! It's time to get ready!" His uncle now turned to walk out the door, then turned around, "Don't forget to wear your armor!" He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Brandon sighed, "Wonder what this trip'll be like..." He looked out the window again, the maids were walking around the grounds. The ocean's lapping sapphire waves could be heard from just outside the walls. The birds were in the trees of the courtyard, singing their morning songs. He could see the sentries patrolling the walls, wearing their brilliant blue-and-white striped tunics over long chainmail.

He remembered that his uncle had once been the lord of a small keep, now though... He was the lord of Kilmarnock. That is where they are presently. Kilmarnock is a large city on the island of Aran, and has a population of over twelve-thousand people. The standing garrison was one-thousand men-at-arms, and two-hundred-and-fifty knights. Several clans owed their allegiance to the lord of Kilmarnock; McKinnon, MacQuarrie, Haldane, Lockhart, Sinclair, and Gladstaines.

Brandon snapped out of the history lesson that he had been required to memorize. He quickly changed into his doublet and breeches, and then hurried to summon his servant. His servant came bustling through the door, Brandon's armor overflowing in his arms. The servant helped put the armor on him; the leather-scaled breastplate came first (which he looped the straps through the buckles and tightened), than the black-leather gorget was buckled, and next to large black-and-blue-trimmed leather pauldrons were attached. After those, he tied the black-leather vambraces, and pulled up his black boots (closing the clips to secure them), and added his black-leather greaves to his legs.

When that was finished, the servant made a bow and quickly left. Brandon walked over to the door, opened and left. His thoughts were on his lessons the other day. You see, not only were the McKnights the lord of Kilmarnock, they were something very special. They were something called "pure-bloods", at least the people in their world called them. His lessons had to do with this private world, something commoners, or "muggles", knew very little about.

So, as he was thinking of these lessons, he bumped into someone. He heard a girls voice go "Oomf!", and he collided with said girl. He fell onto his arse, being pulled down by gravity because of the armor. He looked over and saw the person he collided with. Alyssra Sinclair.

Alyssra was a blonde haired girl around the age of fourteen, turning fifteen in a couple months. She had lovely hazel eyes, always looking sort of piercing and thoughtful. She was nearly five-feet tall, rather small for her age, as she was only six inches taller than him. She was in those "hormonal" years, where Brandon would rather stay far away from her.

As soon as Brandon realized what he'd done, he started scrambling backwards as fast as he could. Alyssra looked at him and laughed a little. Brandon, who was shocked to hear laughing, not screaming, stopped. She shook her head and got up, "You're really that scared of me?" She asked, a smirk on her face.

Brandon knew that girls can be utterly terrifying, especially to a nearly eleven year old boy, nodded his head quickly. Alyssra laughed again, "well, you're lucky I'm in a good mood!" She stated, walking towards. Brandon meanwhile, in his mind he was contemplating a couple things: 1. Have a real conversation with her, as she normally yells at him. Or 2. Run the hell away before she acts like she normally does. She reached him before he could make a decision, and she extended a hand, offering to help him up. Guess he was stuck option one.

He took the hand she offered, and helped stand himself up. The armor he wore probably weighed at least thirty-to-forty pounds, which is definitely heavy for an almost eleven year old child. Alyssra helped him up, and said she forgave him. Brandon was still in too much of a shock to even comply to what she said, his mouth opening and shutting, occasional noises coming from it. Alyssra laughed again and left.

As he was turning away, he noticed that Alyssra had dropped something. A wooden stick. It was made of cherry wood, and was a good fifteen-inches in length. Brandon recognized it immediately, and grabbed it. He saw Alyssra still walking down the hall, and sprinted after her, going as fast as his leather armor allowed him. She turned into a nearby room, and he reached the door a minute later.

Brandon peaked in to see where she was, and he saw her looking around frantically; checking her dress, he nightstand, he mirror drawers. She had an extremely frazzled look. He chose this moment, to rap his knuckles on her door. She screamed in the direction of the door. She probably yelled to wait a minute, but it scared him so badly, he dropped the wand and began sprinting for his life down the hallway.

He didn't look behind himself until he got as far down the hallway as he could possibly get. He never looked back, but if he did, he would've seen Alyssra open the door, look around, see the stick, and pick it up. And she would wonder who found the very thing she was looking for frenziedly.

Brandon ran until he got to the great hall. When he got there, he saw his uncle dressed in similar armor, except instead of clothing under the armor, he wore a chainmail suit under it. Also, his uncle's breastplate had their sigil: The Black Raven, in the center. He also wore a black bear pelt on his back, with the paws reaching over his shoulders.

When Brandon arrived in the hall, his uncle turned to him, "Ah! Good, you're here!" He rumbled, beckoning him forward. Brandon jogged over to him, pushing through the people gathered about. He reached his uncle, whom towered above him. "Today, we make you a man!" His uncle said, loud enough for the hall to hear him. Everyone quieted down and looked at them. Brandon noticed that some gave him looks of pity.

"As you all know, we McKnights have a tradition," he said to the hall, "and that tradition is... and execution." Brandon felt the blood leave his face, his uncle continued, "And, when a McKnight reaches his eleventh birthday, he must've executed at least ONE man." If possible, Brandon paled further.

Brandon knew, he just knew, that this trip wasn't going to be joyful. His uncle was going to make him take a life! He wasn't even eleven yet! His uncle landed a heavy hand on his shoulder, patting it. He began to stroll out of the hall, everyone following him, and Brandon had no choice but to do so also.

All the lesser clans had been gathered. Eithrig and Caitir McKinnon were there, the three Lockhart's, Sir Nachton Sinclair (the father of Alyssra), Bearnard MacQuarrie, and the six Haldanes and Gladstaines'. As is normal tradition, their have to be witnesses of each of the clans to see the execution.

The boys knees were shaking horribly, he was utterly terrified. _He was going to take a life!_, was the thought racing through Brandon's head. They were lead out into the courtyard, where the horses were waiting. They mounted the horses (Brandon had help from a servant, not that he noticed because of the daze he was in...), and left through the keeps gate.

This unique party rode out into the city, where crowds were already gathering. An execution was always fun for the commoners to watch, but this was a special occasion. This was a McKnights rite-of-passage into the path of adulthood. McKnights were commonly know for fervently believing that, if you were goin got sentence a man, you should carry it out. If you were going to execute someone, the person whom sentenced them swung the blade.

They arrived in the city square, the whole city was dead silent. Brandon licked his lips, trying to moisten them, however his tongue felt dry. He was still shaking. _Who was the man he was to execute? What did he do to deserve death?_ That's all Brandon could focus on. They rode all the way to the podium, and which a person was being held. As Brandon drew closer, he realized, it was no man, it was a boy! The boy had black hair, and dark hazel eyes. The boy held his gaze, and Brandon could see a look of defiance in his eyes.

The boy was probably about two or three years older than him. His face was covered in dirt, and he had chains connecting his hands and feet, and he was on his knees before the podium. Brandon's uncle helped him down from his horse, and led him to the podium. Once there a page read aloud the charges:

"Lennox Potaire! You are hereby sentenced to death, for giving information to our enemies, the Daltons of Perth! You are also charged with the murder a six guardsmen, through strange means. Do you have anything to say?" The page finished, looking down at "Lennox".

"Nay," the boy spoke, but he looked at Brandon and whispered, "so, I'm the one who'll give a child nightmares for the rest of his days?" Brandon felt shaken to the core after hearing that. He was still in the shock of hearing that he was to kill someone a couple years older than himself.

"It's okay, you can do it." His uncle encouraged him, for the first time, sounding kind. Brandon realized, his uncle did the same thing when he was nearly eleven. Brandon sucked in a deep breath, and nodded. His uncle patted his back, and handed him a bastard sword. This was the blade that McKnights have used for executions for nearly seven-hundred years.

Brandon walked to the boy, who had rested his head over the slab of rock, his neck extended. Brandon recited the words perfectly, his voice a little shaky, "I, B-Brandon Edr-e-e-ew McKnight the f-f-first of my name, do hereby, sentence you to d-d-d-d-ie for your crimes." The boy simply closed his eyes. Brandon lifted the heavy blade over his head, as high as his ten year old arms could reach, and swung down. His swing was true. He heard the sickening -SCHLECK- and heard the soft thud of the head hitting the ground.

He opened his eyes, and saw the headless body was next to his feet, blood coming out in spurts. It was an extremely dark color, almost black. The blood began pooling around his feet, growing larger and larger. His arms felt weak, and his uncle walked forward. He took the blade from Brandon, and helped lead Brandon away. Brandon saw the black-haired head roll a little ways away, the hazel eyes almost rolled up into his head, and blood coming from the mouth. He also saw the throat holes within.

It was a truly horrific and scarring sight. It is a sight that will forever haunt him. It forever crept into his dreams. And as his uncle lead him back to his room, poor Brandon was still in shock. His uncle helped him get into bed, and all Brandon could see, was the lifeless eyes of Lennox Potaire.

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**Yeah, sorry if this seemed a little dark. Now, if some of you have read A Song of Ice and Fire books, you'll know where the execution idea came from. The Starks in the book believe that the man who executes a person, should deliver the blow. Well, the Scottish believed in the exact same thing. So, I hope you enjoyed this, please leave a review, and as always, Have A Nice Day!**


	3. Dreams in the Ever-Fade

**Hey guys! Here's the second chapter! It is rather short compared to what I was hoping, but, I'm rather pleased with this! I will hopefully be updating within the week or so. Now, ****REVIEW ANSWERS!**

war sage: good chapter.** Thank you!**

koryandrs: interesting chapter... i liked the dialogue.** Much appreciated, as always, I try to aim to make things interesting!**

**Last, but not least, SHOUT-OUTS to my FOLLOWERS:**

Alliyah Skywalker

HackedByAWriter**(Make sure to support this one's stories! A personal favor to me!;))**

koryandrs

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war sage

**Finally... ON WITH THE STORY!:**

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The hazel eyes stared at Brandon, making cold sweat gush from him. The detached head was speaking to him, uttering unknown words. Brandon tried to close his eyes, but to his sheer horror, he couldn't. Blood began leaking from the lips, still mouthing it's strange citation. Brandon could feel his body shaking, tears forming around his eyes. He couldn't look away, and now the crimson liquid was pouring from behind those hazel eyes. Much to the young boy's absolute terror, the head's skin began to peel off, leaving behind the still moving muscles covering the skull.

Brandon jolted awake, screaming. He was still having these dreams, two months later. The end of the summer was coming, and soon, his uncle and he would be going to London. A servant burst through the door, looking quite startled. You'd think they'd be used to him waking up, raw-throat screaming, nope. His uncle seemed to be the only one who could sleep, he was a heavy sleeper. The servant looked at him and nodded, at this point, the servant knew it was better to leave him alone when these dreams came.

The servant quietly closed the door, and Brandon laid his head down on his goose feather pillow. He was still shuddering, the images of Lennox have been haunting him, ever since he swung the blade. Eventually, and fighting much resistance, his eyes closed. Different dreams intruded his sleep this time.

He was standing in a field of tall grass, the summer sun glaring down at him. Tendrils of weeds were sprouting through the obviously long abandoned ground. Brandon could've sworn that he recognized this place, but yet, he couldn't place his finger on it. As he looked around, gray clouds were splotching the sky, and it seemed that a storm was moving in. Wind began to buffet the surrounding area, forcing Brandon to raise his arms. Lightning crackled, and the storm clouds began rapidly spreading, covering the once bright blue sky, making it look angry.

He turned around, and now he could recognize the place. The island of Aran. Where Kilmarnock sat upon. He suddenly realized why he couldn't recognize the place before. Where was Kilmarnock? Once he had done a full 180° turn, he saw something. It 'twas something that scared him more than he could explain. It was a man.

This man was in a black cape, a bellows helmet covered by a hood, and black leather abdomen belt. He had one pauldron on his right shoulder, and a black battle skirt. Behind the bellows helmet, Brandon could see dark blue eyes, no whites in them, the blue took up the whole space. He had a wand that looked intricately designed with raven feathers, carved into the handle, with lines crisscrossing along the stem of it. Something about him was very familiar.

The hooded figure approached him, walking slowly, almost deliberately. His black cape was billowing wildly in the wind, and the hood was almost blasted back. He reached Brandon and stood quietly in front of him. Brandon felt the urge to turn around and run, but his legs seemed incapable of working. The figure seemed to know what he was thinking, and cocked his head. Then, he spoke, in a voice that made his heart jump to his throat. "Fear me not."

Brandon turned around, and looked at this figure incredulously. Why shouldn't he fear him? He decided to voice this thought, "Why not?"

"Because, I have no wish to harm you."

"How do I know this?"

"Trust first, proof will come around later." There was a small silence after this.

"What do you want?" Brandon finally asked.

"I come with a warning," the figure said, a cloud of breath escaping from the bellows, "the things I tell you, must be followed."

Brandon felt slightly angry, slightly curious. Why was this man telling him what to do? "Why should I?" Brandon said, feeling a little defiant.

The figure threw back his head and laughed, it sounded horrifically psychotic. "Because, if you don't, a dark future is in store for the world!" The figure said, all the while chuckling.

Brandon was still perturbed by the laugh, and said, quite shakily, "Wh-wh-what d-d-d-do y-y-you mean!?" He'll admit, his voice was a little high-pitched.

The figure chuckled, "Dark times are in store, very dark indeed." With that the figure took a breath, "I am trying to prevent these things from happening, so you **must** listen to me." Brandon felt as though his throat was constricting, and he just nodded. The man continued, "First: Your uncle has some secrets, very dark ones that he'd prefer never got out, don't trust him."

"Why shouldn't I trust him!? Why should I trust **you** still!?" Brandon said, his voice coming back to him. The figure shook his head sadly, as if he was greatly saddened.

"Because, darkness is all you'll find if you do." The figure said softly, like breeze on a summer day. Meanwhile, the storm around them was picking up, lightning strikes were hitting all around him, lighting the tall grass aflame. "Secondly: Stay away from Alyssra." Brandon felt anger coursing through his veins.

"Why!? Why should I!? Once again, how can I trust you!?" Brandon screamed, over the howling winds of the storm.

"She is part of an event in the future, an event that leads to the darkness I speak of!" The man shouted back, his fists clenched, "I am trying to help you! You can trust me because I would never bring harm to you, nor your family!" The storm kept picking up the pace, thunder boomed at a constant pace, lightning came down more fervently. The flames that lit from the tall grass grew ever closer. "Lastly: Never, **EVER**, go to Moscow in Russia!"

Brandon was confused now, why would he go to Moscow? Russia was a distant country almost never really heard of during this time, remember. Rain began to come down, in sheets. As Brandon looked at the figure, he seemed to be melting into shadows. He was still curious who he was, and yelled with all his might, "What do I call you!?" He heard the figure yell back something, a name that was unfamiliar.

"You may call me Reznoten!"

Brandon looked down to see the flames still hadn't been quenched, and they licked at his feet with a growing intensity. The flames now reached into the sky, like fingers clawing their way towards the sky, except orange and deadly. Finally, the flames obscured his vision.

He bolted up in his bed, breathing heavily. The dream was still heavily imprinted in his mind. It was just a dream, right? It couldn't have possibly been real, it was... illogical. Yet, for some reason, he felt as though a hand was shoving him down.

The door opened once more, and in came a servant. "My Lord?" He said, saw Brandon, and spoke gently, "Lord McKnight requires your presence at breakfast as soon as you're presentable." Brandon nodded slowly, comprehending the dream still. The servant closed the door. He hoisted himself out of bed, and went over to the rinse bowl. He looked at his reflection. The blue eyes, the raven hair, the roman-esque nose, and his sharp eyes. Something about Reznoten seemed familiar, _of_ _that_ Brandon was sure of.

He quickly put his hair into a ponytail, rinsed his face, and put on his clothes. Today, he would be wearing a blue-and-white striped doublet, with a black sash around his chest. He pulled on his black trousers, and slipped on his black boots. He looked in the mirror again, unable to shake the feeling that Reznoten... was a McKnight.

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**Quite the plot-twist, eh? As always, I reveal nothing*backs away mysteriously*... I hope you guys will continue to support this story, I really appreciate it! Question of the story:**

**Who is Lord Gregoir McKnight?**

**And As Always, Have A Nice Day!**


	4. Weekly Schedule

**Hey my followers and dearest friends! Don't worry! NOT abandoning my stories, just on a little hiatus! I also bought this really, REALLY addicting game a couple days, and have been unable to tear myself away from it since. Just a few notices: I will be doing grammatical and spelling maintenance for ALL of my stories, pretty much, I will hunt down each and every spelling or grammar mistake I've made, and fix it! Here is the upcoming schedule for this week(I will now be posting one of these every week starting every morning on Monday):**

**Sunday, Monday & Saturday - Addicting Game I bought**

**Tuesday - Heroes of Olympus: The House of Hades**

**Wednesday - Set The World On Fire**

**Thursday - The Reznoten Chronicles: Reign of the Black Raven**

**Friday - Heroes of Olympus: The Wrath of Earth and Shadows**

**On a second notice, I will be posting the "Reznoten Chronicles" story on Wattpad as well! So if you like it, please stop by it on wattpad, it would be much appreciated! Once again, I am sorry for no updates, but do not fear, I will never abandon my stories!**

**~TheDisturbedGuy**


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